


Incognito

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Silly fic about what happens when Tucker, Reed, Mayweather and Archer go to a bar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

**Incognito (aka The Pick Up)**

A/N: A very silly bit of fluff. Slight suggestion of A/T’P. What happens when the guys of Enterprise get boozed up and head to a bar looking for “action.”

It sounded like the beginning of a joke, and in a way it was.

Four men walked into a San Francisco bar one evening at around midnight. Sure, they’d started off at the 602 Club, their usual digs, but according to Trip, they needed to head to a place with a little more “action.” Because they were all astonishingly handsome, human men, each of them virile – he thought they’d get noticed. At least, that was the plan. Of course, his partner in crime, otherwise known as Lt. Reed, had been game ... along with Travis. Getting the captain to go had taken some cajoling; apparently he had a book all warmed up for the evening. Eventually, at T’Pol’s insistence, he’d decided to accompany the men for a night on the town.

With pride, Trip smiled and took stock. The obnoxiously loud music, women stuffed into dresses two sizes too small and dancing lights could only have meant one thing. This was it.

Tousling his sandy blonde hair, he flashed his dressed to kill suit, which was whiter than his smile or the meringue on a pie. It covered a shirt that no self-respecting Hawaiian would wear, mainly due to the palm trees and surfboards decorating it. With a drawl so thick you could spread it over biscuits, he spoke slowly and with deliberation.

“Damn. Whaddaya think, Mal? This our bar?” he asked.

He was difficult to miss – besides the loud clothing and stunning good looks, his manner was casual and affable. Half-way between slouching and standing up straight, Trip’s ocean-blue eyes gazed lazily at Malcolm Reed.

A scantily-clad woman sashayed by, and the Englishmen chortled with enthusiasm.

“I think you’ve done well, Commander. Yes. Well, indeed. I don’t think we should have a bit of trouble picking up women.”

Piercing gray-blue eyes gave way to affection and his taught pink lips worked themselves into an awkward smile, causing the dimples (which had no business encompassing his mouth) to suddenly appear. Fussily, he brought a hand to push a lock of hair back as if to give the fairer sex no quarter.

Righting the charcoal gray tie he was wearing, he ran his hands over his charcoal jacket – as if to dust off imaginary lint. As quickly as they’d worried themselves over fuzz, they dove into his pockets and settled as he attempted to retrieve a dose of allergy medicine. Instead his lucky fingers latched onto a box of Tic-Tacs and he popped two into his mouth. After three beers his mouth could use a little … refreshing.

“No, we shouldn’t have any trouble at all,” Lt. Reed repeated.

At the second utterance of the mantra, the tallest ducked his head into his hand and murmured. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Now come on, we didn’t have to try that hard,” Trip said.

A deep laugh rumbled and escaped through his nostrils as his warm green eyes gleamed with regret and amusement.

Clad in a beige cotton shirt - opened just enough to show off a patch of chest hair - and dark brown pants, he was the most casual … and the most out of place. Looking like a fine, leather-bound novel at a disco, he stood apart – possibly too refined or stuffy for the establishment. Shoving one well-manicured hand into his trouser pocket, he fished out a few credits to at least buy him a beer during this expedition.

“Well, you wouldn’t exactly leave me alone until I said I would come,” Jon said – his voice strained with a Midwest accent.

“No one had to convince me,” Travis said to the captain.

Showing off teeth so perfect dentists would be jealous, the helmsman smiled. Only slightly more formal than the captain, he sported a long-sleeve silky blue shirt tucked neatly into black pants. Everything about this man was trim and buff. His arms, chest and legs bulged, making his clothing more form fitting.

With confidence the youngest man, nudged Reed.

“What do you think of those two at the end of the bar?” Travis asked.

Travis’ chocolate eyes stared at two young women sitting near each other. One had long platinum hair and had an Asian look about her – small in stature with large almond-shaped eyes. The other had a lavender-colored bob and looked exotic, but he couldn’t quite place her ethnicity. She was also petite, but looked only slightly taller than the young Asian woman. Both looked about in his age range, which he would quantify as anywhere from 21 – 35.

“Good eye,” Trip re-affirmed, giving them the once over. The two were classy, with a lot of sex appeal – both were in skirts that showed off plenty of leg and blouses that clung to them.

“Yup, good eye,” he reiterated. His hand immediately fanned the air, begging for a Tic-Tac, which Malcolm was only too happy to supply.

A waitress sauntered up to them, seeing one of them had money.

“What can I get you boys?” she asked over the music and bar-talk.

Jon, the one with the money, couldn’t remember the last time he was called a boy and was tickled at the idea. As he opened his mouth, the Englishmen decided to flirt.

“I’d like to drink in your beauty.”

This wasn’t the first time she’s a line that bad, but he had a nice accent. His voice was suave and sophisticated, so she decided to reward it with a smile.

“Then what can I get for the rest of you.”

“Dark beer – whatever’s on tap, please,” Jon said.

“Lemon drop,” Travis said. As the three raised their eyebrows, he shrugged. “Sounds good.”

“Light beer, please, ma’am,” Trip said. “Coors if ya got her.”

With a wink to Malcolm, she whisked off to get their order.

As the lights in the club flickered a blue and then purple hue, the music roared louder. Trip’s hips suddenly kept time with the music, as he bit his lower lip and grinned. Somehow the rhythm was infectious and before long, even Reed was moving his butt to the music. The only one left standing perfectly still: Archer.

“So, why don’t we say the first one who gets their good graces has their drink paid for,” Trip shouted, over the music.

Travis smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

With confusion, Jon furrowed his brow. “Which two?” he asked, just to be clear.

Deciding pointing was the best thing he could do, Trip threw one arm around Jon’s shoulder and the other one toward the girls, flicking his finger to single them out.

Archer said, “Oh, I see. They’re attractive. You know, they look kinda familiar.”

“Attractive?” Malcolm asked. “A bit more than attractive if you ask me.” He’d never accuse the captain of being hip, in fact, no one would. Refined, friendly, bookish, moody and brooding? Yes. Hip? No.

Drinks were delivered and the four walked nonchalantly to bombard the women. Leaning against the bar and looking into the mirror than ran the length of it, Trip checked out his appearance and winked: collar was down and hair was spiked up. He decided to sit next to the one with purple hair. Malcolm flanked on the other side, choosing the one with blonde hair.

“Good evenin’, ladies,” said the Southerner. “My name is Trip, and this is my friend Malcolm. We couldn’t help but notice you across the bar. You two have to be the prettiest women I’ve seen all night – and I’ve seen _a lot_ of women tonight.”

The girls remained quiet.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Trip offered, his hand reaching into his back pocket to pull out a wallet.

“No thanks,” said the platinum one.

“Don’t drink?” he asked, trying to lean a little closer to the one with purple hair.

“We don’t let just anyone buy us a drink,” said the platinum one again.

“Takes someone special, hmm?” Malcolm asked, joining in.

“You could say that,” the blonde replied.

“Your friend do all the talkin’ for you?” Trip asked the girl with purple hair.

“I have no need to correct her,” she finally replied.

Something about the comment lit a fire in his brain. If he hadn’t already sucked down three beers and a couple of glasses of whisky, he may have been able to place it.

Shaking his tush, Trip nodded to the dance floor. “You feel like doing a little dancing?”

The platinum one covered her mouth to hide a giggle. “No.”

“Sure you lovely ladies know how to dance?” Malcolm said.

“Yes,” replied the purple-headed one.

“Then what’s the problem?” Trip asked.

“Perhaps we don’t wish to dance with you,” said the purple-haired one. Avoiding his gaze, she sipped her water as the platinum blonde giggled.

This was harder than Trip thought – much more difficult. He was the kind of guy that managed to win women easily. Somehow he always disarmed them by looking shy and awkward; little did they know he viewed himself as a ladies man.

“You know, he’s a lot more harmless than he looks,” Travis said with a smile. His arm fell around Trip as he slapped him on the back.

The purple-haired one glanced over at Trip and then back at Travis. “Is he?”

The dark-skinned man nodded. “Me on the other hand ….”

The blonde looked over him. “You’re dangerous?”

“No. Just not harmless.” A grin spread across his face and sparkled. “My name is Travis. You are?”

“Tamiko,” she said. Before her friend could speak up, she introduced her as well. “She’s Miranda.”

“Where you ladies from?” Travis asked.

Miranda waited for her friend to answer again as Tamiko gave a light cough. “Not from around here.”

“Me neither. I’m a boomer,” he said.

“Oh, don’t bore them with your cargo ship stories,” Reed said. “Especially when these lovely ladies may be more impressed that we work in a starship. You may’ve heard of it – Enterprise?”

“I’ve heard of it,” said Miranda, stoically.

“Of course you have. I’m the tactical officer and work on the Bridge. In fact, I’m in charge of security.” Straightening his tie, he produced a grin.

Trip rolled his eyes. “Mal, geez, will ya give it a rest? They don’t want to hear about how you like to blow stuff up.”

Tamiko giggled and sipped her martini.

“But, they may want to hear that a class two nebulae doesn’t hold a candle to them.” Trip grinned – using heavenly bodies was always a hit with the chicks.

“Because we are exploding gas?” Miranda asked.

Trip frowned. “No, I meant – you two are good lookin’. I mean … ah, hell. You sure I can’t buy you a drink?”

Miranda looked at her water and held it up to him. “I have one, thank you.”

“Well, Miranda, you seemed interested in a tour of Enterprise. As one of the senior officers, I’m sure I could give you one,” Malcolm said, smiling.

“No, thank you.”

Tamiko said, “Well, you guys look like you’re ready to party. We don’t want to slow you down.”

Travis shook his head. “Party’s right here. That’s all we need.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “I believe … Tamiko … was indicating we preferred to be alone.”

Travis’ grin fell faster than Trip could quaff a beer. “All right.”

As the three men had given up, the woman with purple hair singled out their mostly quiet older companion.

“Isn’t it your turn?” she asked.

“My turn?” Jon asked.

“Yes, your friends seem determined to buy us a drink or get us to dance,” Miranda said.

“I’m not going to hassle you. And, I apologize for them. Let’s just say they’ve been cooped up for a while.” He gave a lopsided smile and let his eyes wander over to the guys, who’d huddled together to discuss their catastrophic luck.

“I accept your apology. My name is Miranda,” she said.

“Jonathan Archer.” He extended a hand, which she hesitantly shook.

“Tamiko,” added the other.

“Nice to meet you,” he said and then shook her hand.

Tamiko laughed. “You don’t get out much. Do you?”

“Huh?” he said.

“Let’s just say when you’re at a bar, you don’t announce your full name and shake a woman’s hand,” Tamiko said. “Especially if you’re hitting on them.”

“You think I’m hitting on you?” he asked. “No, you two seem a little out of my league. Besides, I think you’ve been pestered enough already.”

“Out of your league?” Tamiko said.

He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Tamiko said. “Miranda, is he out of our league?”

Miranda shook her head as if she didn’t understand the question; Tamiko ignored her.

“I would say you’re handsome. Wouldn’t you, Miranda?”

Jon put his hand in front of his chest. “Really, it’s okay. Have a nice night.”

Tamiko snaked his arm. “Not so fast. Come over here.” She got up and let him have the stool between her and her friend.

As he sat down, Miranda agreed. “He’s attractive.”

Staring into her eyes, he blinked. “That’s very sweet of you, T’Pol.”

Tamiko swatted his arm. “You knew!”

“Of course, Hoshi.” He smiled broadly and giving a low chuckle. “If you let me buy you two a drink, it’ll remain our secret.”

Hoshi nodded with defeat and Jon fished out his wallet and tossed some money on the bar.

“So, the thing I don’t get is – why you wanted us to try and pick you up?” Jon asked, leveling his gaze at T’Pol.

“We’ve been … ‘cooped up’ as well,” the Vulcan said.

After nearly choking on his beer, he stared at her. “You don’t strike me as the type to go … clubbing.”

“I could say the same for you. I wanted to observe human behavior. Ensign Sato recommended I accompany her. We didn’t realize all of you would be here or talk to us.”

“Then why the disguise?” he asked.

Hoshi sighed. “A Vulcan in a bar? Come on, Captain.”

He leaned into his communications officer. “So what’s your excuse?”

Before she could answer, the waitress came by, scooped up the money and the two received a drink.

Getting up, he smiled. “Enjoy your night.”

As he walked back toward his stunned friends, Hoshi frowned. “That didn’t go as planned.”

T’Pol flicked an eyebrow. “For whom?”

“What do you mean?” Hoshi asked.

T’Pol fell silent. “I apologize. I was thinking aloud. You’re correct of course. Are you ready to leave?”

Hoshi shrugged. “I could stay up a bit. Maybe the guys will come back over and I can give them a hard time. I’m not finished paying them back for coming back to the hotel last night singing so loudly that the walls to my room shook.”

“Very well, then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The Vulcan climbed off the stool and strode over to the door gracefully (despite the heels), pushing a lock of her purple wig out of her face.

Trip shook his head. “Son of a bitch, you got that purple-haired girl’s phone number?”

Jon smiled looking at the chip he’d been slipped as he walked away from the two ladies at the bar. “No, it’s a room key.”

Trip’s face lit up like a Christmas tree in the Macy’s display window two weeks before the holidays. “You’re shitting me!”

“I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow,” he said. Turning on his heel he walked out of the bar and met up with the girl with lavender hair at the door.

Reed looked disgusted. “No accounting for taste,” he grumbled into his drink.

Trip nodded over to the bar again and the girl with long platinum hair. “She’s still alone. Wanna see who picks her up?”

The Englishman shrugged. “I’d say I have better chances with the waitress.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. With that, he passed Travis, who was already dancing it up with a woman who’s mini-skirt matched her black hair, and met Tamiko at the bar.

“What took you so long to arrive?” asked T’Pol.

Jon beamed. “Had to make them think it was their idea to come here.”

Walking down the cobblestones, T’Pol’s breath left a white plume in the night air. Curling her fingers around her jacket, she wrapped it tighter to her.

“Another group of men tried to engage Ensign Sato and I earlier.”

Leaning over as if to whisper, he made a confession. “Can’t blame them for coming onto you. You look great.”

She stopped and eyed him for a moment. “I thought I was … out of your league?”

He agreed. “You are.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, she continued to walk around the alley corner and waited at the curb for a shuttle to taxi them home.

“Thanks for the use of your key,” he said. Stuffing it into her hand, he grinned.

“Why did you need it?”

He shrugged. “I have a reputation to keep up,” he said.

“I see. You _do_ realize that Ensign Sato thinks Commander Tucker and Lt. Reed’s signing is responsible for her wall shaking last night. Of course, I thought it was the appropriate ruse ...”

“T’Pol.”

Raising her eyebrow by centimeters, she didn’t respond to his chide.

A boyish grin crept over his face as he held his finger in the air as a taxi slowed to a halt. “We’d better stay at my apartment tonight.”

“Or move the bed,” T’Pol countered.


End file.
